{"id":8418,"date":"2015-02-02T09:00:30","date_gmt":"2015-02-02T14:00:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=8418"},"modified":"2015-02-06T10:18:41","modified_gmt":"2015-02-06T15:18:41","slug":"modern-modernity-pt-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/modern-modernity-pt-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Modern Modernity Pt. 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"modern\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s stupid to fall for gay guys. That\u2019s what my sister Suzanne said while she scoured the stovetop. But Grover is different, I told her. He wasn\u2019t like all the men who fucked me over, men like Ariel\u2019s father, whatever happened to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeeing faggot boy tonight?\u201d Suzanne asked. She\u2019d agreed to baby-sit Ariel while I worked the graveyard shift at Wal-Mart. She took another SOS pad from the box under the sink. A stickler for cleanliness, she refused to enter my apartment unless I vacuumed the rugs and washed the windows.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you talked to him every day,\u201d she said with a snide tone.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t start, Suzie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJill, I\u2019ve got errands tomorrow. I can\u2019t watch Ariel while you piss around town.\u201d<\/p>\n

Whenever Grover and I worked the same shift, he took me for breakfast at IHOP afterward, a little thing between him and me. He always asked if I had a boyfriend, if he should be jealous. You\u2019re the prettiest girl there, he told me. Way too pretty to deal with all the meth addicts and welfare mothers late at night. I looked forward to our breakfasts more than anything.<\/p>\n

Ariel coughed and shifted in my lap. I held her up and took a whiff, wondering if she needed changing. I couldn\u2019t smell anything. She turned a year old next month.<\/p>\n

Suzanne asked me to help clean the fridge. \u201cBobby hates it when I let the food go bad,\u201d she said. Bobby was her husband. I set Ariel in the crib and Suzanne opened the fridge. What I saw stunned me. Three cartons of milk, two of them weeks past their expiration date. Countless Tupperware containers with spoiled food. A wilted head of lettuce.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did this get in such a state?\u201d I asked. \u201cYou\u2019re always so clean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone has a blind spot.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

I never intended Wal-Mart to become my career. After three years working there, though, it didn\u2019t feel right saying I was just looking for a better job. The shit started when I was arrested for marijuana possession four years ago. None of the hospitals or clinics would come near me with that on my record. I used to be an x-ray technician. Wal-Mart welcomed me like a long-lost relative. Grover liked to joke that an arrest record was required to work there.<\/p>\n

I trudged across the store to the employee lounge. It was eleven at night, and most of the graveyard shift was already there. At the punch-clock I scanned the employee slips for Grover\u2019s name. I needed to talk to him. It hadn\u2019t seen him in over a week, but we spoke on the phone a couple of times. He had big news he wanted to tell me in person. I wondered if he had a new boyfriend. His last one left him with a scorching case of anal warts. I hoped it was something else, something very different. I knew it wouldn\u2019t be what I truly wanted to hear: he was going to take a chance with me. I felt awful admitting that, but every time Grover found someone new, I saw far less of him.<\/p>\n

I spied Grover\u2019s timecard and smiled. Just then, a hand slapped across my eyes, and another body pressed against mine. The sweet stench of whiskey wafted on my neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s my beautiful girl?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s my beautiful boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover took his hand away and spun me around, gave me a big smooch on the cheek. \u201cYou were almost late,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAriel was being fussy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t she take care of herself yet?\u201d<\/p>\n

I faked a horrified look and slapped his arm. \u201cShame on you! She\u2019s just a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, we\u2019ve got Hamburger Helper to stock.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTogether?\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover grinned and ran his hand through his dyed blonde spikes. \u201cI\u2019d never let this store break us up,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re the beautiful people.\u201d He strode out of the lounge through the swinging doors. He walked a little funny, weaving slightly. He liked to knock back a few before work. I hoped he wasn\u2019t too drunk.<\/p>\n

I ignored the few customers who stared while I was out on the sales floor. Most never looked at me. Usually they breezed past as if I weren\u2019t there. The rare customer slowed down and stared, as if she couldn\u2019t believe I let myself sink so low\u2014I still flushed with shame, like it was my first week on the job. I never told Grover it still bothered me. He would worry.<\/p>\n

In aisle four, Grover hauled a box from the dolly and expertly slid his cutting blade across the taped lid. We plucked out the boxes of Hamburger Helper and tossed them onto the shelves. He was much faster than me. With this damn weight, it was tough to bend and stoop like Grover could. He finished before me, like always, and then helped with my half of the merchandise. Past midnight, I hadn\u2019t seen a customer in a little while.<\/p>\n

Grover put his hands on his hips and beamed. My God, he had such a beautiful smile\u2014it was transporting. \u201cYou haven\u2019t asked about my good news,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that why you\u2019re half-drunk?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck no, I drink because this place depresses me. I\u2019m talking about something completely different.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

He winked and tossed the empty cardboard box onto the floor. In one fluid motion, he slid the cutting blade into the next box. \u201cI met someone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed and ran my palms over my blue work-vest, as if I\u2019d spilled something. I licked my lips and blinked. \u201cThat\u2019s terrific, Grover.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, it\u2019s about damn time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s his name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBart.\u201d<\/p>\n

Forgetting what might happen if a manager caught us, I grabbed Grover by the arm. \u201cJust be careful. You know\u2026after what happened with Doug.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, beautiful. I got a front-row view of his asshole. He\u2019s clean.\u201d<\/p>\n

My laugh echoed through the cavernous aisle and up into the high ceiling. Grover dropped his boxed dinners and wrapped me in his arms. As I tried to break free, afraid we\u2019d be caught, he swept me off my feet and swung me around like we were ballroom dancers.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew you\u2019d be happy for me!\u201d he crowed. I tipped over, close to losing my balance, but I grasped one of the shelves and caught myself. \u201cYou\u2019re the best hag a faggot ever had,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I blew him a kiss and smiled with my hands knotted against my breasts. I should be happy, I told myself. Grover was my friend, and nobody is truly happy alone. I knew that better than anyone.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Grover had already left for IHOP when I emerged through the store\u2019s glass doors. I buttoned my overcoat and wrapped a scarf around my neck. A nasty cold front had swept through during my shift. I dialed Suzanne. I hoped Ariel hadn\u2019t made too much trouble. I needed my sister to cooperate.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re just now getting off work?\u201d she asked, her voice sharp and mean.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only eight-fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat kid coughed and spit all damn night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you she might be sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you afford a doctor?\u201d Suzanne asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll take her to the emergency room if she doesn\u2019t get better.\u201d I hurried through the parking lot, lumbered out of the way of the minivan approaching from behind.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to do something now<\/em>,\u201d she said. Ariel cried in the background. I wondered how awful people ever figured out they\u2019re awful.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I needed to tell you,\u201d I said. \u201cGrover wants me to go\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, fucking Christ!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to talk,\u201d I whined, ashamed she\u2019d reduced me to a whimpering child.<\/p>\n

\u201cGrover, Grover, Grover. What about what I need, Jill?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to pick up your fucking kid. She can sit with you and the faggot while you make goo-goo eyes at each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAriel hates crowded places.\u201d<\/p>\n

I heard nothing that next moment, not even Suzanne\u2019s breath. Finally, she agreed, grunting like a baboon. \u201cNo more than an hour, you hear me?\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ve got to get things ready for Bobby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Clutching the phone to my cheek, I searched my purse for my keys. \u201cI\u2019ll help you with laundry when I come by, promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t need your help.\u201d The dial tone afterward stunned me. All these years and it still surprised me when she hung up without saying goodbye.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Grover sat in a booth at the far end of the IHOP. I paused in surprise. Every morning we came, we sat at the front. Grover liked watching the cars zip down the highway while he ate. I unwrapped my scarf and tugged the rubber band from my hair, letting it tumble over my face. Grover often told me my hair was gorgeous.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t see any cars from here,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got more important things to watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

A tall, middle-aged hostess handed us menus and took our drink orders. Grover whipped his open and perused the dishes. I watched the hostess depart. Her orthopedic shoes clomped on the linoleum. Her slip dipped below the hem of her uniform skirt. I prayed God would spare me such a humiliating fate, waiting hand and foot on people who refused to acknowledge me.<\/p>\n

\u201cJill, you still with us?\u201d Grover asked in a playful tone.<\/p>\n

I shook my head and grinned. \u201cI don\u2019t know why we look at these things,\u201d I said, holding up the menu. \u201cWe always order the same damn thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover stared elsewhere, pointed toward the kitchen. \u201cTell me what you see,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook where I\u2019m pointing.\u201d<\/p>\n

I managed a small laugh and looked. Waitresses flitted along the service line, picking up dishes to bring the customers. Their quick conversations with the cooks gurgled from across the restaurant. I looked back at Grover, expecting some crass joke. He still gazed somewhere far away. I wanted to ask what the hell was so captivating. Then, I saw him.<\/p>\n

Emerging from a swinging door at the end of the serving line, a man strode into the dining area. He was a few years younger than Grover, maybe not even twenty-five. From his black tie, nametag, and maroon apron, I knew he was a waiter. He was a striking man: small, thrusting chin, nose with a sharp incline, widely spaced green eyes. It surprised me when he glanced over at Grover and me. He flashed a smile so perfect and white, it belonged on a billboard.<\/p>\n

Grover\u2019s features softened and he rubbed his hands together as if warming them at a campfire. The waiter reached our table and slipped a notepad from his pants.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you I\u2019d come visit,\u201d Grover said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I could talk more,\u201d the waiter said. \u201cWe\u2019re getting slammed this morning.\u201d Indeed, almost all the tables were full of chattering, gesturing diners. Thank God I\u2019d left Ariel with my sister. I knew it sounded awful, but she would\u2019ve ruined this moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou still get off at three?\u201d Grover asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but I\u2019ll probably have to stay a bit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Finally, Grover looked at me. He appeared flustered, as if my presence surprised him. \u201cThis is Bart, my latest distraction.\u201d Grover clasped his hand over mine. My breath caught, my jaw dropped a bit. \u201cBart, this is my salvation, Jill.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGrover can\u2019t stop talking about you,\u201d Bart said, extending his hand. Still reeling, I shook it, managing a passable smile. I wasn\u2019t going to let this upset me. Grover and I had been friends my whole three years at Wal-Mart. This man meant just a little fun in bed for Grover. He\u2019d still have time for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy keep a gorgeous boy like you a secret?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was my idea,\u201d Bart admitted. His narrow cheeks flashed crimson.<\/p>\n

\u201cYoung Bart was a little ashamed of me at first,\u201d Grover said, leaning over the table as if confiding a secret. The whiskey on his breath smelled stronger now. Did he keep a flask in his locker at work?<\/p>\n

Bart gasped then let out a sharp pop of laughter. \u201cYou bastard, I was not!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne thing I didn\u2019t tell you,\u201d Grover said, still leaning close, \u201cis this dear boy is almost a decade younger.\u201d<\/p>\n

I saw this situation with total clarity. Grover\u2019s last boyfriend left him humiliated, the warts collected around his asshole reminding him constantly of the betrayal. He spent several months alone, not even a quick romp with one of his fuck buddies. Grover always informed me when he got laid. He probably stopped in the restaurant one morning without me and spied this good-looking boy, his pen poised and tie straight, ready to supply anything<\/em> my best friend wanted.<\/p>\n

\u201cAge is just a state of mind,\u201d I said, ignoring the charged atmosphere. \u201cLook at me. I\u2019m not a day over twenty-five.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover pounded the table, doubling over with laughter. I turned thirty-one last month. Bart chuckled softly. He cut his gaze from Grover to me. I felt disoriented, exposed. He\u2019d probably ignore me if he caught me stocking Hamburger Helper.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Thomas Kearnes holds an MA in Screenwriting from the University of Texas at Austin. His two collections are “Pretend I’m Not Here” (Musa Publishing) and “Promiscuous” (JMS Publishing). His fiction has appeared in Litro, The Adroit Journal, The Ampersand Review, PANK, Word Riot, Eclectica, SmokeLong Quarterly, Johnny America, Five Quarterly, wigleaf, Storyglossia, Sundog Lit, A cappella Zoo, Spork, The Pedestal, Digital Americana Magazine and elsewhere. His work has also appeared in several LGBT venues. He is studying to become a drug dependency counselor. He lives near Houston.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s stupid to fall for gay guys. That\u2019s what my sister Suzanne said while she scoured the stovetop. But Grover is different, I told her. He wasn\u2019t like all the men who fucked me over, men like Ariel\u2019s father, whatever happened to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeeing faggot boy tonight?\u201d Suzanne asked. She\u2019d agreed to baby-sit Ariel while I worked the graveyard shift at Wal-Mart. She took another SOS pad from the box under the sink. A stickler for cleanliness, she refused to enter my apartment unless I vacuumed the rugs and washed the windows.<\/p>\n

READ MORE.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":233,"featured_media":8762,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,200,219,217],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8418"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/233"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8418"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8418\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8962,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8418\/revisions\/8962"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8762"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8418"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8418"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8418"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}